𝙄𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙔𝙤𝙧𝙠...

Piece Of Cake

Narrative: Michelle tries to bake Peter a cake. Keyword: try.

Person A can't cook for shit, but that's okay because Person B loves the effort anyways; a headcanon I found on Tumblr.

_________________

Ah, New York. The Big Apple. A place to build dreams... at least for those financially well off. For others like one Peter Parker, he had to struggle a nine-to-five job just to make enough for rent and pay off college debt—or well... what little he had of it. And even on the day he was born.

Sure he'd get time off to celebrate once the weekend came around, but he missed the feeling in his youth of being able to dedicate the whole day celebrating or skipping a day of school just to do so. Yet he knew adulthood would change all those plans, so he'd just dealt with it like every other person.

And although most do get the time to reschedule the celebration for a later date, Peter had a fifty-fifty chance at that for he had to work twice as hard as a regular person. Having to always be on alert in case some unlawful activity occurred in need of a colourful local crime-stopper. Or a "Little Bastard in Red Tights" as stated in the article in his hands, published by none other than the New York's biggest hypocrite: J. Jonah Jameson.

Peter rolled his eyes at the bold and brash words of the reporter before turning into the nearest alley and shoving the paper down a dumpster where it belonged. He didn't need the criticism, and Peter knew what type of hero he was. The good kind. Or at least that's what he strived to be. And as he much as he longed for the same luxuries as others, he was right where he needed to be.

He could wield the mantle handed to him with the righteousness and responsibility it needed. Besides, he wasn't that unfortunate in his life despite the trauma. He had friends who became his family and people that adored him (alter-ego him anyways). And most of all he was lucky enough to have a place to call home.

Home that was just a few blocks down and two apartment buildings away. One he'd return to after a long day of hard work and kicking villainous ass. One that held memories, but most importantly, one that held memories with the love of his life. Michelle Jones.

It's been nine years since they got together and she stuck with him through everything as he with her. They continued to grow in their relationship and as a person, together. Graduating high school, then college, and then finding a place and moving in with one another. It's what they called home. A little apartment in Manhattan that didn't hold much, but their love for one another and it was perfect for them. Peter forgot all of his woes and worries after that thought, just ready to return into Michelle's arms.

His steps became a little more hurried and lively until he finally made it to the elevator doors waiting wide open for him. He landed up to his floor and greeted some neighbors before sliding in the keys to his door and entering.

As he shimmied out of his jacket and hanged it in the nearby closet, then set aside his shoes, he scoured around in sight of MJ. Entering in a little further through the Jones/Parker residence, he found her in the living room, vacuuming the rug as she simultaneously danced along to Beyoncé blasting through the mini speaker. He couldn't help but smile fondly, watching in amusement as her hips swayed from side to side to the rhythm of the beat. (A/N: Any version of Zendaya is fan of Queen Bey and I stand by that statement)

Peter then loosened up his tie, pushed aside the last of his unwanted attire, and proceeded to approach his lover from behind. He swiftly wrapped his arms around the small of her waist, pulling her back as close to him as possible and leaned his lips up to her ear, whispering the lines, "Do you have any idea how stunning you look right now?"